Storyteller
by almcvay1
Summary: Lizzie waits for Red in his not-so-secret-anymore apartment. Lizzington. One-shot.


**A/N**: This is my first foray in to the M-rating. I thank/blame the lovely **_Didou27_** and _**MichelleMyBelle**_ for the plot bunny and this is unbeta'd, so if it sucks, it's all me. Properly disclaimed as always.

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"Hello, Red." Lizzie slouched provocatively in the armchair opposite the door. Her mile long legs were crossed, one of his best ties was loosely knotted at her clavicle and one of his fedoras perched on her head, stylishly dipped over one eye. A pair of t-strap heels and a silenced pistol sent his calculating brain into a state of total confusion. Arousal and just a little fear slid through his veins like a particularly fine scotch, and he struggled to draw breath to speak.

"Ah, Lizzie…hello." Was hello really the best he could do right now, Red shook his head slightly, trying to get his wits back in line. He had a beautiful and mostly naked Lizzie pointing a gun at him and he wasn't sure if he wanted to run or just fall to his knees at her feet. The smile that curved across her face was feline and promised a wealth of retribution should he displease her in some way.

"Have a seat, dear. I'm so glad you're home." She gestured him to the couch with the muzzle of the gun. Red moved slowly, keeping his hands in view at all times. He never even considered reaching for the Colt 1911 in his pocket, because the world was crazy, but not crazy enough for him to draw down on his Lizzie.

"May I take this off? It's a bit…warm in here." He began to slide the blue anorak off his shoulders, and since she didn't object, he divested himself of his suit coat as well. He was glad he hadn't worn a tie today, because the damn thing would have strangled him by now. He sat on the worn cushions, forced himself to adopt his usual relaxed posture, arms spread across the back, legs crossed at the knee. He gave his entire attention to the woman with the gun, though.

"You know you don't need that pistol, Lizzie. I'm aware you've been here before. Dembe never keeps a secret from me. I'd prefer it if you would have waited for an invitation, but since you're here, what can I do for you, my dear?" he kept his voice even, almost amused, hoping to keep Lizzie's finger off the trigger.

She blinked at him in the early evening sunlight that was coming through the blinds and tilted her head with a chuckle.

"Still Master of the Universe, Red? Yes, I'm aware I don't need this pistol, just as I'm aware that you could have drawn your own the second you stepped through the door. But I'd like some answers about this place, and I'm not leaving without them." Her cerulean gaze glittered under the brim of the hat; she'd picked his best one. Now every time he wore it, he'd see her sitting there, all creamy skin and devious expression, in his favorite chair.

"Well, the history of this building goes back to the early 1960s, when JFK was President. This place was kept for his rendezvous with the late, great Marilyn Monroe. One of his friends from college held the deed so it was never traced back to the White House. After he was assassinated, his friend's business fortunes took a nasty turn and so this apartment was sold at auction." He could feel himself slipping back into the comfortable role of raconteur, but he kept a weather eye on Lizzie all the same, only breathing a bit easier when he saw her face relax into a grudging smile.

"JFK and Marilyn? Really? Is any part of that even true?"

"I don't lie to you, Lizzie." His expression went from affable to somber in a flash. He was a man of little faith, but this he held dear. Save the person dying in front of you if you can, and never lie to Lizzie. If he believed in love still, and on a good day he did, she was the closest thing to it he had ever seen. Lizzie wasn't just someone he loved; she was the embodiment of it. His mouth quirked a bit as he regarded the gun still in her steady hand, and sometimes love hurt.

"Who are the people in all these pictures, Red? I see myself, I see Sam, but who is this?" She held out the framed photo of the woman whose face was obscured by a glare of sunlight. Red took the picture from her and frowned slightly. This was Lizzie's whole life, spread throughout a two bedroom flat. But still some things must remain secret.

"I'm not sure I should tell you, Lizzie. It seems you have developed clever ways of getting information now, even info you aren't supposed to know, if I tell you her name, then you could possibly wind up in some very unpleasant situations with some very nasty people."

"I can handle myself, Red. I'm quite intelligent and resourceful and I thought you knew that about me."

"I know a lot of things about you, Lizzie, but that's no reason to want you dead."

"Somehow, I knew you wouldn't tell me. You wouldn't before, and here we are, surrounded by history, because this is someone's history, and you still won't give it to me."

"Lizzie, you know I would if it was safe for you to know. And believe me, if anything could convince me otherwise, if it weren't so imperative to your well-being, you showing up like this, would have broken me."

"Oh, is that so, Red? All the women in the world you've been with over the years and plain little me being here naked undoes the great Concierge of Crime?"

"Well, that's nonsense to begin with, because there is no universe in which you are plain. And as for "all the women" as you say; yes, I've been with some remarkable ladies. I've liked and respected each of them. But, they all have one thing in common, and it's a very important thing."

Her eyebrows arched in question.

"They aren't you, Lizzie."

Lizzie's eyes narrowed as she stood up and now, gods help him; he no longer had strategic posture or a cleverly draped tie to obscure the full glory of her nude form. She was a timeless, classic beauty, slim and graceful as a willow tree in the wind. Listen to him getting all poetic, when his heart was about to pound right out of his chest. He fiddled with the buttons of his vest, but was unable to take his eyes off her.

She nudged his knee with her own as she stood over him, and as soon as he uncrossed his legs, she straddled his thighs, tossing aside the hat. She wound her arms around his neck and smiled as he tried to keep his eyes on the gun. He really didn't like it being behind his head. He wasn't altogether comfortable with a naked Lizzie with a gun near his skull. He tried his best stern disapproving look.

"Elizabeth. The gun is overkill." He tried for a frosty tone, but was unsurprised when it came out shaky. Most of his blood flow had been rerouted from his brain to places much further south. A situation of which, if Lizzie squirmed at all, she would certainly become aware. He wasn't particularly embarrassed, a man would have to be dead not to react to her like this, and Raymond Reddington was not a corpse, not yet anyway. Lizzie's smile was slow and easy as she reached behind her and placed the gun on the coffee table. That was the opening Red needed.

He gathered a fistful of her tie and pulled her against his chest, crushing her lips to his. Red had waited, dreamed of this moment for far too long to waste it just because it wasn't exactly to his plan. He considered himself a flexible man. He kept a grip on the silk and shoved his other hand into her hair, reveling in its softness, as he coaxed her lips to part, to let his tongue slide in to the sweetness of her mouth. What surprise Lizzie may have felt, she'd recovered, because she was definitely putting her skills to use, nipping his bottom lip, soothing the sting with her tongue. She scraped her nails through his close cut hair, and his eyes rolled back in his head on a guttural moan. Her clever hands were going to be the death of him today, he thought briefly, as they skimmed over his chest and slid down to the buttons of his vest. He broke their kiss for a moment, only long enough to breathe and tug the tie off her neck.

He wasn't even surprised when he glanced down to find not only his vest but his shirt unbuttoned to his belt. His Lizzie wasn't wasting any time. He sucked in a breath when she went to work on his belt and trousers. He was a bit worried once she got her nimble fingers on him the leash he had on his control was going to snap. His heartbeat pounded in his throat and a tide of greed rose to the high-water mark, as he filled his hands with her lovely breasts, brought them to his lips to devour. He needed to get a grip here. He didn't want to scare Lizzie, so he tried to ease back. But Lizzie was having none of that; she pushed his shirt and vest off his shoulders while her mouth did scandalous things to his neck. He knew there would be bruises later on, and not just on his own skin.

Lizzie slid down to the floor, pulling off his loafers and socks, and she grinned wickedly at him from where she sat between his legs. Despite the thoughts that almost completely derailed his brain, Red kept a grip on his last bit of self-control.

"Are you sure about this? Because if we go this way, our little push-pull love-hate waltz is over. I can't just be whacked around like a ball on a squash court."

She dimmed the wattage of her smile a bit, obviously taking the whole situation into account. Red was paralyzed, half hoping she would back out of this and half quite terrified that was exactly what she planned to do. She stroked the insides of his thighs, almost soothing, except for the fact that it had the opposite effect on him. Lizzie met his gaze full stop, though, and smiled.

"I'm sure."

Red watched in a daze as her elegant hands went to his zipper, slid it carefully over the now quite obvious erection, and shifted his weight to assist her with getting the trousers all the way off. He had a moment to worry about what her opinion of him might be, after all, he wasn't a young man of Lizzie's age, but he tried to keep himself in fighting shape. But that thought flew out of his mind as her hands wrapped around him, stroked fluidly. He could almost hear the crack as his self-control snapped like a rubber band. He pulled Lizzie up and back on his lap, guiding her lips back to his as he gripped her hips hard enough to leave marks. Her skin was hot to the touch, as though a fever burned underneath, and his slid his hand to her center, combing through the dark curls to the source of the heat. Silky warmth coated his fingers as he explored her and he watched, enchanted, as Lizzie's eyes widened and then fluttered closed. Her face was a book he could read every day and find something new every single time. He wanted to read it for the rest of his life.

He brushed his lips over her cheeks as he carefully slid two fingers into her core, curling a bit, and he smiled as she gasped. He felt the muscles flutter and twisted just a little, and earned a moan from the woman in his arms. He removed his fingers and as she watched, licked them clean. Lizzie's pupils blew black and she slid forward, positioning him in the right spot, and then easing herself down, taking him all the way to the hilt. The apartment, the city, the whole entire world could shatter and go to hell; Red had found his nirvana right here.

Her hands braced over his heart as she moved gracefully over him, changing her rhythm often enough to drive him mad. She kissed him as though it was the last thing she would ever do in this life, and he returned the favor. They merged into a single entity, wrapped in each other's gaze, listening to each other's hearts. Outside of Red and his Lizzie, the world still turned, but for them, it had stopped. Their steady pace began to falter as greed began to take over their dance, driving them harder into each other, until Red had the untold pleasure of watching Lizzie's eyes go dark and blind, just before he followed her into the abyss.

Lizzie lay quiet, against his chest, her breath finally slowing to normal as he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

"That picture is of your mother, Lizzie." And he felt her smile against his skin.


End file.
